


Be Still Until The Dawn

by BlueSkiedandClear



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Dirty Talk, First Kiss, Fluff, Hannibal Lecter is Not a Cannibal, Hannibal is an idiot in love, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Park Brawl, Piano Sex, Rock Band Hannibal, Rough Sex, Song Lyrics, Students, Younger Will, a bit - Freeform, very light choking, younger Hannibal, younger characters in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24635095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSkiedandClear/pseuds/BlueSkiedandClear
Summary: College AUHannibal is a night owl, the member of a rock band. Handsome and insufferable.Will is a shy, polite, a little weird freshman with too much empathy.They are roommates, but they barely know each other, until, one night to a party, things become... complicated.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	1. 1.

**Author's Note:**

> A very short idea, inspired by this tweet:
> 
> https://twitter.com/LadyLasombra11/status/1270284153355931649

As he closed the shower jet, Will Graham heard the thud of the door slamming, and learned that his roommate had come out. He let the last rivulets of water flow through his hair, his back resting against the icy bathroom tiles, reflecting lazily.

He had been on campus for a month, and all that time he had deluded himself to live alone. About his roommate, who went out before him and always returned after him, he had discovered only the name, not even from his voice, but from the stack of books labeled and abandoned on the desk: "Hannibal Lecter". A strange name for an even stranger guy, he had thought.

Not that he could call himself normal, anyway.

When the cold began to bother him, he roused himself and went out. The ectoplasmic Lecter was, however, the least of his problems: only the day before, his professor of Behavioral Sciences, Crawford, had summoned him to his office for a project he had not understood exactly, and for a rather simple reason. Crawford just put a set of files in his hand as he kept ratting with someone on the phone.

Will had been for a good minute frozen in front of the desk, before the professor discharged him with a hand gesture.

Buttoning his shirt, Will glanced perplexed at the files, which he had casually flipped as he left the library the night before. It was a series of photographs taken from crime scenes, but they were unlike anything Will had ever seen before: it was not unusual for the bodies to be arranged in a particular way by the killers. It was unusual for them to be arranged as works of art.

There was no indication that these were resolved cases or not. Ayway, they stimulated his curiosity like an itch that he could not relieve. His imagination would lead him to recreate the scenes second by second, frame by frame, whether he wanted it or not.

He was sure Crawford would explain himself that same day.

In a decisive gesture, he closed the files in his bag, removed his hair his eyes, and walked out, almost late for class.

He entered the classroom, after a short run, careful not to squeak the door and slipped next to Beverly Katz, the only classmate with whom he had managed to sustain a conversation that was longer than five seconds. She peered at him with her dark, searching eyes:

" You drowned in the shower?" She asked, a smirk on her lips.

Will ignored the gibe, following Crawford's entrance into the classroom:

" I think today we will have two more hours on the dynamics of family murderers. " Instead, he said, in a vague tone.

She rolled her eyes:

" It looks like it." She replied, then amic, and elbowed Will, who kept his gaze fixed on his notes:

" Look who's here. " She announced, with a giggle. In spite of himself, Will shifted the focus to the rows in front of him. 

The girl who was sitting down, noticed Beverly, gave her a bright smile and a hand gesture to both of them:

" Hello, Will." Greeted.

" Hello, Alana. " He answered, feeling more clumsy than usual. It didn't take him long to notice the cutest girl in the course, and to realize that he had no hope with her. He wasn't the only one with eyes, after all.

Sure enough, within a few seconds a couple of guys, much more flashy than Will, approached her and chatted with her with an enviable fluency.

He merely bit his lower lip and returned to his notes.

It was a blessing to hear Crawford's voice fill the classroom, so Beverly could stop giggling.

At the end of the two hours, as they arranged the bags, Beverly returned to the attack:

" You know, you really should make the first move. It's obvious that Alana is interested in you." 

Will snorted:

" Come on, Bev, stop it. Girls like her don't look at people like me. " He retorted, annoyed. High school had already been hell, as far as relationships were concerned. He didn't want to turn college into failure, too.

" There aren't many like you. " Beverly replied, in an explicit tone.

" Not so weird. "

" Not so cute and helpless, with those puppy eyes and all those curls, dear my Will. "

She concluded, with the grimace of who knows very well.

He was going to retort peevishly, when Crawford called him:

" Graham! In my office in ten minutes. "

More than happy to have a reason to interrupt that awkward conversation, Will quickly greeted his friend and walked out of the room with his bag on his shoulder.

Jack Crawford's office, ordinary professor of Behavioral Sciences, was on the third floor of the block opposite to the one in which the classrooms of the Faculty of Psychology were located.

Will found the door already open, but knocked anyway, to announce his presence. Crawford was talking to someone, and he didn't stop, looking out and beckoning him in:

"... it's just a chore. Nothing challenging." He was telling to Hannibal Lecter, his evasive roommate.

Will studied him with crossed arms, with honest curiosity. He had not yet had the opportunity to observe it closely: he had hard, sharp, but harmonious features, in their own way. He wore his ash blond hair gathered in a messy bun, and a dark wooden earring pierced his left lobe. When he turned, Will could see his elongated eyes, of an amber brown, but he looked away before meeting his gaze.

Instead, he turned his attention to Crawford, who was circling his desk, waving a copy of the files he had given him the next day:

" Graham, you know Lecter, so let's get to the point. Some idiot in the archive screwed up with the files, and now they need to be reordered and reclassified. These are all unsolved cases, so I've been thinking about you. "

Will frothed, but Jack looked at both boys with his fists resting on the desk:

" I don't expect you to be detectives, but you two are the smartest students I've had in my hand for a long time. One never knows, you see anything in those old papers. "

He explained, dryly.

Hannibal nodded, but Will was puzzled. He was silent, not knowing exactly how to object, and Crawford added:

" Take it as an extracurricular job. I'm going to make sure I get you some credit. " He guaranteed. He discharged them, and the two walked out of the office together. Just outside the building, Hannibal pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jeans and tucked one behind one ear:

" If we have to work together, Will, we'd better start now. See you in the library after lunch. " He decreed, leaving.

" Hey, I might have class! " Will protested.

" I know you don't have it." It was the reply, given with a careless tilt of the head.

Will was stuck where he was, watching him leave. It was the first conversation they had in a month, and Will was already pretty certain he couldn't stand Hannibal Lecter.

Will had to endure the rest of the morning with Beverly and their classmates Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller, all three convinced that Crawford's task was fantastic, and that the best thing was that he would be joined by Hannibal Lecter.

" Half of the girls on campus will die of envy. " Beverly commented, with enormous conviction, as they sat in the cafeteria for lunch.

Will looked at her, grimacing:

" They can have my place whenever they want. I don't think Hannibal Lecter is that interesting. " He noted.

The others looked at him as if he had said a blasphemy, and Beverly replied:

" If you came with us to the Lambda Selene parties, you wouldn't think so. " She assured him, but Will shook his head:

" No, I don't come to fraternity parties. " He said, decisively. It was something he had promised himself since before he set foot in college, and he didn't mean to break his word to himself for anything in the world.

He quickly finished his lunch, and left, before they tried to convince him to change his mind.

He arrived at the library on time, but Hannibal was already waiting for him at a table a little apart. In fact, he wasn't waiting for him, he was immersed in a book, and he didn't close it until Will sat down. Only then, he look him straight in the eyes and grimaced:

" Come on, let's start, I have rehearsals at seven. " He said. 

Will glanced obliquely at him and clasped his lips: it didn't seem the best of the beginnings to start with a quarrel.

" You play? " He casually asked him, instead, starting to fix the files in front of him.

" Yes." It was the answer, succinct.

" What? "

" Piano and keyboard. "

" Ah. "

Silence fell again. They were a couple who would go beautifully, by the way. Neither of them loved chats.

They worked for a while in total silence, then Will remarked:

" I don't know what Crawford expects us to find in this stuff. "

Hannibal took a note with his thin black fountain pen. Who still wrote with the fountain pen, wondered Will, noticing an excerpt of curved and elegant calligraphy. He dressed like a metalhead and wrote like a nineteenth-century poet. God, what a snob he was supposed to be.

" He told me that your mind works in a … different way. " Hannibal said, surprising him. He didn't expect an answer.

Will frothed:

"A nice way to put it." Snorted.

Hannibal raised his gaze in his, his eyes slightly ajar:

" How would you put it? "

Will reciprocated his look, uneasily:

" I just work like this. " He stated. There had already been enough curiosity around his excess of empathy, but he was optimistic to hope that college would be different.

Hannibal bent his lips in a barely perceptible grin:

" You talk about it as if it were a system bug. Instead, it can be a gift. " He said.

Will stared at him:

" You have no idea what that means. " He exclaimed, irritated.

" Of course not. But you do. You know how to use your ability to take every point of view. " He replied, calmly detached. He seemed very little interested in the conversation, but he was carrying it on.

In spite of himself, Will returned to the cases that were flowing in front of him. They were referring to a period of a few years, and they all had significant similarities, even though the victims had no connection to each other. He observed the image of a man literally planted in a tree, with flowers blooming from his mutilated parts. He was clearly seeing himself fixing the flowers artfully, naming them one by one.

All the bodies lacked parts. Organs.

" He eats them. " Will murmured. 

Hannibal looked at him, and Will looked at him in turn:

" This killer is a cannibal. He hunts prey, takes the organs suitable for cooking, eats them and transforms the bodies into something nobler. " He listed.

Hannibal smiled, more evidently, a smile that did not extend to the strange oblique eyes:

" Well. Uncle Jack will be satisfied. " He commented. He took more notes, then closed the files and put them back. Will froke, again:

" What are you doing?" He asked, dismayed.

" I told you, I have reharsals. You solved the cases brilliantly. Go to Crawford and get a pat on the back. " It was the answer, uttered with the utmost calmness.

It took Will a moment to understand:

" You knew everything."

" Of course." Hannibal admitted, naturally. He looked at him, sighed and loosened his hair, which He shook with a careless gesture:

" Listen, Will, this is a little game Crawford's been playing for two years. He gives me a promising freshman and I test them. A way for him to figure out which students will go on, and for me to avoid boredom. " He explained, passing his fingers in the thick, shaded chestnut locks. He put a cigarette behind his ear, like that very morning, and looked at him:

" You've been the fastest so far. Good job. " He noted. He put his bag on his shoulder:

" If you want to celebrate your little triumph, tonight we play at Lambda Selene. Bring a nice friend. " He concluded, leaving him where he was for the second time.

" I don't come to fraternity parties. " Will murmured, humiliated, to himself.

He hated him.

At least, Crawford apologized. After laughing. He had also complimented, though. Will did not see a total failure in the day, all in all.

He went to work at the shelter with spirits on the ground, but the strays could always put him back in a good mood. While brushing Winston's caramel-colored fur, he wondered why Hannibal had invited him to the party. Maybe to make fun of him further.

His conduct hit his nerves: he was one of the usual confident bastards, that Nature, for some unknown reason, had equipped both a brain and an appearance to take your breath away.

Intellectual honesty had to make him recognize that Hannibal was gorgeous: dry, broad shoulders, cheekbones like knife blades. Beautiful voice, blunt and hoarse at the ends, with depth peaks in the center, the foreign accent evident, but not annoying.

Discreetly intimidating, overall.

It made him pinch his skin the way he talked about his empathy, as if he knew him for who knows how much. He used a few words, but he got to the point immediately.Will was half intrigued, half-tempted to punch him.

On his way back to the apartment, he wondered if he would find him.

As always, there was no sign of him. With a sigh, Will put aside his purse, prepared dinner, and put himself on the books.

His cell phone began to vibrate almost at midnight. He answered in a sleepy voice.

It was Beverly:

_" Will? Were you asleep? "_

He rubbed his eyes, closing the book with a dry blow:

" No. What's going on? " He asked, hearing a note of alarm in her voice.

_"Ahhh..."_ She was hesitating _: " See, I was here with a couple of girls and things got a little messy... Can't you just walk through here? "_

He rose, on alert:

" Here where? Are you all right? " 

_" At the headquarters of Lambda Selene. There was a fight..."_

Will ran to get his jacket and keys:

" Okay, stay away from the people. I'm coming. "

There were a number of reasons why he didn't go to parties, and this was one of those.

There didn't seem to be any particular problem, when Will arrived at the tenement that housed the fraternity, at least seen from the outside, but it was full of people, and the music was very high, it was impossible to understand anything from there.

He passed the groups of revelers who laughed, and slipped into the building, transformed into his personal nightmare.

Drunk college students dancing, shoving, vomiting around and sticking their tongues down their throats in every corner. And fraternities had to be serious, in theory.

Holding back the urge to scream, he started looking for Beverly everywhere.

He found her outside a room, and as soon as she saw him, she pulled him in and shut the door.

Sitting on the bed, arms crossed and the look of those who would gladly start a riot, he found Freddie Lounds, a classmate he found particularly intolerable, and Bedelia Du Maurier, a student a couple of years ahead, whom Will knew vaguely to be one of the fraternity leaders.

"Why are you locked in a room? " He asked, perplexed.

Bedelia frode even more:

" This idiot started tweeting lies about a member of Lambda Helios. " She explained, between her teeth. The male fraternity.

Freddie blew:

" They weren't lies. " Retorted. Beverly interjected:

"As it is, the guy in question knew she was at the party and confronted her. Someone got in the way, and few punches flew. "

" Nice work." Will commented, with a dry sigh.

" Well, I'll get you back to your rooms. I'm going with you. " He decided.

The girls paraded in front of him, coming out and Beverly stood by him:

" Thank you."

" You're welcome. "

They were beginning to descend, when a loud, authoritarian voice reproached them:

" Hey, Lounds, where do you think you're going? "

He had been a tall, big guy to talk. Will, instinctively, pushed the girl behind him, but the one snorted:

" I just want her phone, man. "

" I'm not your friend, and she's not bound to give it to you. " Will replied, staring back at him.

Others had come behind the guy. Will could say he knew a few of them, but he totally ignored their names.

" Give him the redhead's phone, dude. It's better for you, believe me. " Said one. Will ignored him.

" Forget it, Francis." Said another, more reasonable.

Francis kept eyeing Will and Freddie with barred eyes. He was bruised.

" Give me the phone." Ordered.

Will stood motionless:

"I'll call security, I warn you." He warned him.

Some giggles exploded:

"Uhh, what a fear. This doll doesn't want to play. " Will ignored again.

The guy named Francis stepped forward:

" Get out of the way. I want her phone. " He growled.

" No. "

Will heard Freddie Lounds squeling behind him, a new voice coming into the scene and asking:

" What's going on?"

Before he physically felt the punch fall on his right cheek.

For a moment, the world went into blackouts and an explosion of lights burst behind his eyes. He felt himself fall, but did not feel the bump with the floor.

In fact, he was on the ground. He shook his head, trying to see the scene: Francis' friends were holding him back, Freddie had run down the stairs and another known face floated in front of him.

" Come on " Said Hannibal, pulling him to his feet and supporting him on the shoulder. Will let himself be dragged into a bathroom.

" Fuck." He exhaled, feeling the pain spread over his face. Could he have a broken cheekbone?

Hannibal had him sit on the toilet with the lid down, and rummaged through a locker. He retrieved a first aid box and knelt in front of Will.

" Still, now." He recommended, taking his chin between his fingers and turning his head to expose the affected spot.

Will held his breath in pain, but he did not move. He felt his cheek swell rapidly:

" What do he has in place of his hands, anvils?" Spat.

" That asshole of Dolarhyde is a goddamn bodybuilder. " Hannibal answered, beginning to dab his face with a cloth soaked in cold water. Then he passed with a piece of cotton soaked in alcohol, evidently there was a cut.

" No stitches are needed. " He informed him, "But some ice will be good. Now let's go down to see if they have any in the kitchen. "

He put a patch on him, then helped him get up. He had not beaten his head, fortunately, but he did not feel very firm on his legs. Will realized he was face to face with Hannibal, strangely close.

His gaze fell on his lips, involuntarily, then rose to his eyes, filled with a golden shadow, deep, sharp, burning. Eyes that peered at him with unmistakable greed.

For a moment, he only heard their breaths, then it happened.

Their lips crushed as if magnetized towards each other, in a kiss first confused, then more regular. Hannibal bit his lower lip, and Will let slip a groan. He drifted one hand on his shoulder and the other in his hair, loosening them, sinking his fingers into their weave. Hannibal opened his lips and slipped his tongue against his, looking for it, meeting the clutch of his teeth, one hand on his back, the other among the brown curls.

Will groaned again, trying to deepen the kiss, but Hannibal left his mouth for his chin, jaw line, neck, throat, stroking, exploring. Will scrabbed his cheek against his, clinging to him with an intoxication never felt before. He searched his mouth again, they met for a new kiss, and another, and another, until it all ended, suddenly as it had begun.

Will stayed with his short breath, shocked by the abrupt interruption of contact, while Hannibal walked away from him, retreating against the wall. He kept his face turned to the side, his eyes were turned upside down, and his chest was squashed by frantic breaths.

"Ice." He murmured, simply, and went to open the door for Will, who was furiously blushing. They went out without a word.

Will left the ice on his face all the short distance home.

He responded to Beverly in monosyllables, much more upset about what happened with Hannibal than about the punch. He didn't even remember what happened.

He found himself in bed, his eyes wide open, the pain smothered in his cheek as the only foothold to reality, unable to sleep.

He didn't hear Hannibal come home.


	2. 2

" You have a hideous face ," Beverly greeted him in the classroom that morning.

Will replied with a grimace, but did not comment. He hadn't slept until dawn. At the very least, his cheek was a little deflated, but nothing could make him forget what happened soon after.

All he could do was feel Hannibal's mouth on his, his hair in his fingers. It was torture.

He had turned and turned around in bed, his ears invaded by their muffled voices, only to discover that he was excited to the limit, to his enormous embarrassment.

He had tried to ignore it for a while, then he had begun to touch himself, almost unconsciously. He imagined his lips again on his throat, slowly stroking his cock, from the base to the top, and then increasing the rhythm, until he had to bury his face in the pillow, to muffle the groans.

He'd done it in the shower, too, wondering all the time if he'd gone crazy or what.

He had to talk to Hannibal, even though he had no idea what to tell him. He didn't even know why he kissed him. It just happened.

It wouldn't happen again. He had to tell him this.

If Will thought the resolution would calm him down, at least a minimum, he was wrong. He was a bundle of nerves.

He didn't reply to Beverly, but he diverted on another subject:

" Did you have any other problems last night after I left you?" He asked, instead.

She shook her head:

" No. At least, not for me. I don't usually hang out with Freddie and Bedelia. " She explained.

Will frothed:

" What the heck were you doing at the party with them?"

Beverly shruid:

" They heard me talking to Alana about it and they invited me. " She told:

" I think it's because Alana's dating Hannibal. Bedelia has been aiming for him for a lifetime, but she has no hope. " She added.

Will shrouded, and pretended to look around the classroom, not to notice it:

" Alana is dating Hannibal?" He asked, in a casual tone, hoping to sound as vague as possible.

Beverly nodded, then bit a lip:

" I didn't know, until yesterday, otherwise I wouldn't have told you those things. " Apologized.

It took Will a moment to remember what she was talking about, then he shook his head:

" Don't worry, it's okay. I'm not very interested in her. She's pretty, but it has nothing to do with me. " He cut short.

Will could not define how he felt exactly at the thought of her and Hannibal together. His stomach sent him a small cramp, treasonously, which he ignored.

Beverly struck a searching look at him:

" Oh, I wouldn't give up so easily. As far as I understand, things don't go very well between them. He's got too many people around. " She remarked.

Will's stomach still waved, and he felt blush and then suddenly pale: he was not surprised that Hannibal was coveted, but he gave him the impression that he was the one-night and go type, and that things with Alana not only didn't go well, but weren't even particularly serious. There was every chance that even that damn kiss wasn't serious.

The thought made him sink a stone into his bowels, and made him feel humiliated. He couldn't stop thinking about it, and realistically, it was bullshit.

That's stupid.

He bit his lower lip, suffocating his anger, even more determined to speak to him. Maybe he'd better change apartments, too. That would have been the case, anyway.

" Too bad for them. " He commented, in a neutral tone.

Fortunately, Crawford's arrival ended the conversation, and allowed him, as far as possible, to concentrate. He had a plan.

He waited for the one-hour hole between classes to implement it. Pretending he had forgotten a lecture note in his room, he quickly returned to the apartment and sought Hannibal's class schedule. He would have waited outside the classroom, wouldn't let him avoid him.

He only managed to catch him in the afternoon. With his back resting next to the door of the Forensic Anatomy classroom, he tried and rehearsed the speech he had mulled all day. It never sounded right. He became angry again with himself, and with Hannibal.

They weren't 16. They could talk civilly about what had happened, as adults. The truth was, he didn't know anything about Hannibal Lecter, and that upset him.

They had never spoken until the damn day before, literally, despite living in the same house for a month. They didn't show up. They had not discussed practical aspects of cohabitation once. They hadn't exchanged a chat. Nothing.

Until Crawford had assigned them that stupid task, they had been together one afternoon without talking about anything personal, except for Hannibal's sermon on his empathy. It took him a few seconds to dismantle his intimacy, as if they had known each other for months.

Will had caught almost nothing about Hannibal. If not a huge, unjustified curiosity towards him. That was the reason he invited him to the Lambda Selene party. He had the impression that Hannibal had been watching him for a while, and that it was probably him who brought him to Crawford's attention.

Could it be that he was attracted to him?

The idea seemed ridiculous to him: Hannibal was the classic guy who could easily have had who he wanted. He was casual, despite a certain shady character. He was charming, and that beautiful, cursed demeanour was but a point in his favor. He was also slightly disturbing, but in an attractive, intriguing way.

He would never waste time with someone like Will Graham, clumsy and weird, with the fixation for dogs and the understanding of others excessively high to be an advantage.

He didn't even think he was interested in boys, but he could easily have been wrong about that. It was something he didn't notice. He didn't ask for it for himself, he didn't pose the problem for others.

Whatever things were, after being beautifully ignored, not only in one evening he had rescued him after a punch, but he had no qualms about kissing him, seriously.

Not a kiss on the lips, which could easily be taken as a joke. A serious kiss, a felt one. Passionate. Indeed, more than one, he reminded Will to himself, with a slight shiver, and dry mouth.

And he had reciprocated with conviction. He didn't wonder what was going on, why, what it meant. He just kissed him, he had slid his fingers in his hair. How do you do with someone you are attracted to, or who you love.

During the last, pernicious night of vigil, he had wondered if they would end up in bed together, and the idea alone made him miss his breath. If he had sex like he kissed, it would have been something harder to forget than a making-out.

If his mouth had dried before, he now found his salivating activated at alarming levels, and some tension in the groin area, which made him thank him for carrying a sweater and a jacket long enough over his jeans. He shrugged his shoulders, uneasy, and squinted from the front of his eyes.

Could you be attracted to someone like that all of a sudden?

Perhaps he should have taken it for what it was, a normal attraction, which could have been resolved on a night of fire or stayed there, until it ran out by its nature.

The hint of jealousy he had felt, in discovering that he was with Alana Bloom, however, got stuck between his ribs.

About someone from whom you are looking for only a little sex, you should not be jealous. Not like that. And a kiss should be exhilarating, not make you a mass of confusion.

Before he could think about it again, the classroom door opened and the students began to come out. Will straightened his back, careful to observe everyone, so as to find those who he was looking for, without getting out or, God, having to call him.

He saw him surrounded by a small group of boys, of whom he recognized a couple of those who were with Dolarhyde, as he punched him. Dolarhyde was not there, and Will was grateful for this: he had no idea if the mess of the night before would have consequences, but he would not disliked to receive an apology.

Hannibal saw him immediately, and Will noticed that he had looked down, before redirecting towards him. Before he could reach him, however, he was flanked by one of his jeers, a pale, tall, moody-eyed type, which Will vaguely recognized for what he called him:

"Doll." Jesus, he thought. It was good that he had been distracted by Dolarhyde.

At that moment, he had an idiot's grin and his eyes flashed with malice:

" Look who you see, the doll of last night. Looks like Dolarhyde didn't hurt you that much, did he, young lady? " He commented, in a lewd tone.

Will had to repress a gagging, and he was preparing to smash his face, but Hannibal anticipated it:

"Matthew, why don't you leave? You annoy me. Abel, can you get him out of my sight? " He declared, with enviable calm.

Matthew glanced at him, but he didn't seem to dare challenge him. The boy named Abel said something to him and they left.

Will stayed a second watching Hannibal, his heart beating as if he were a 14-year-old girl on a show, then shook his head:

"Can we talk?" He asked. Hannibal nodded.

Will muttered something about getting out of there, and they found themselves in one of the courts, on the porch.

Hannibal lit a cigarette and leaned against a column, smoking calmly, as Will mimicked his posture toward the nearest column and peered at him with his arms crossed, looking for the right words. Hannibal didn't look at him, looking distractedly around the yard, and within ten seconds Will stared his profile, accentuated by the bun from which long strands were hanging on his shoulders, and his tapered fingers, including the cigarette. He knew the touch of those fingers, he still felt it behind his neck and in his hair.

After blowing away the smoke in a deep sigh, Hannibal spun around, nailing him with those strange, amber-colored eyes:

" You want to talk about last night." It wasn't a question.

Will roused himself and nodded. Hannibal shook the ashes and shrugged his shoulders:

" There's nothing to talk about. I wanted to and I did. " He curled his lips in an indifferent grimace:

" It doesn't mean anything." He pointed out.

Will was so shocked that his arms fell down his hips, and he was certain that he had assumed an absolutely empty expression:

" You go around kissing people, then?" He retorted, indignant and overrun with a burning, corrosive, unreasonable disappointment.

"If I like, yes."

Hannibal looked at him, with the same imperceptible grin that had seen the day ahead:

" It didn't seem you were sorry. " He replied, pulling from the cigarette.

"That's not the point."

" No? What's the point, then, Will? Did you expect me to ask you out? "

Will was speechless. Did he expect it?

Hannibal stared at him, evidently, but politely amused:

" Do you want a date, Will?" As before it was not a question, it was not a proposal. It was curiosity.

" What do you see so interesting about me? Or is it just the taste of jerk around people? "

Will snapped, unnerving. He didn't like the way he played with him.

Hannibal studied him:

" You don't see yourself, do you?" Noticed. He sighed, resigned, and stepped forward. Will stiffened, but he did not come any closer. Anyway, Hannibal held out a hand and pierced his lower lip:

" You're one of the gorgeous guys I've ever seen. Not to mention your mind. " He declared, with disarming naturalness, withdrawing his hand:

" I liked you, I took advantage of it. Not polite of my part, I confess. But I am like that. I take what I want, who I want. No commitments. "

Will crossed his arms again: it was as if the disappointment of before had dug into a huge hole.

" For me it wasn't " Nothing." " He reluctantly confessed, "You can't treat people as you please."

God, he looked like the character of a soap opera.

Hannibal looked at him:

" I'm sorry. I didn't promise you anything. " He shrugged his eyes, and his expression hardened:

" Do you want me to kneel and swear to you everlasting love? It's just a kiss, Graham, not a promise of marriage. We can always have sex and take our thoughts off. " He said, and it was a knife. It was too humiliating.

Will looked away. He couldn't even stand his sight:

" You know what? All right, you're an asshole, and now I get it. I'm looking for another place to stay. " He declared, in a dry tone.

Hannibal looked at him:

" Don't be ridiculous... " He began, but Will interrupted him:

" No, shut up. You're just a fucking weaver, and I'm not going to play these games." He settled his bag on his shoulder and turned:

" Stay away, you and those idiots of your friends. " He warned him.

Will left, with the repressed urge to kick him. And to cry.

He asked for a dorm room that afternoon, citing the excuse that he had had a sudden family expense and could no longer afford to rent an apartment. He was lucky, and he shouldn't have spent the night God knows where.

When he went to get his stuff, he did not find him in the house to his enormous relief. He was annoyed: staying in the apartment had given him more autonomy than he would have in the dormitory, but he could not tolerate sharing his spaces with Hannibal Lecter. As much as possible, he would try not to see him again. It wasn't hard, the campus was big, and their contacts had been minimal, so far.

He wished they'd stayed so.

He found himself sharing the room with a Psychology student named Frederick Chilton, and even after the first night, Will discovered that he could not stand him. He thought he would be the ideal type of Freddie Lounds, the same nerve, the same inability to mind his own business. When Will let slip that he had been Hannibal Lecter's roommate, he began to storm him with questions , so much so that Will had to pretend to have a headache, and took refuge in the room to cool his anger.

He spent the second night sleepless, thinking about what Hannibal had told him, to that kiss, how he had felt and honestly wondering what he had hoped for. He couldn't get out of his head that he called him" "the most gorgeous guy he'd ever seen." He wondered if he had been sincere. Part of him had deluded himself that he really liked him, he acknowledged, with regret. Hannibal seemed to understand him. he had not judged him, indeed, had been encouraging. Knowing that he had done it just to get to him made Will want to scream.

Will was attracted to him, in spite of everything, and was furious at it. As beautiful, mysterious and dark as he was, he had turned out to be an asshole, like a thousand others. At one point Will tried to imagine that he had behaved like this just to keep him away, to follow some stupid dynamic to: " The more I treat him badly, the more interested he will be." Well, Will Graham didn't work like that.

From life he had taken an indescribable amount of kicks: wandering father, mother never known, no real friend, and that damned empathy that always made him the freak of the situation. He could not avoid reading others, repressing himself would be like pretending not to see them. So he had begun to eliminate eye contact. Psychological visits, psychiatric visits, all kinds of evaluations to understand what was wrong with him. Years repairing boat engines so he could pay for college.

No one gave Will Graham anything. He was just looking for peace of mind, and clarity. He wouldn't let Hannibal Lecter mess up his life.

He supported himself with this conviction for many weeks, letting Hannibal become only a rancorous memory.

At least, until he met him again.


	3. 3

Standing with his back to the graffiti-filled wall of the " Iron Moon ", Hannibal Lecter smoked and reflected. He watched the smoke rise in slow coils, leaving the thought wandering about something that he should have let go several weeks before, but that wouldn't stop pricking his brain.

He wasn't used to failure in any field. Anyway, not so stupid.

He had deluded himself that Will Graham would keep going after him, but he underestimated his pride, a mistake he would be careful not to commit again if only he had the chance. He had been tempted every day by the idea of looking for him, to look at him without him knowing. As a stalker, but he didn't care. He had been doing so for the whole month of their non-cohabitation. Hannibal had kept himself away on purpose, as soon as he had met him. He had felt it, clear and decisive, the bite in the bowels, the breath in the heart. Few had had that effect, no one was persisting that long.

It was more of a challenge than anything else, at least at first, then it had become a fixation, and he had been deeply annoyed by it. He hated that someone, albeit indirectly, could have that control over him. The idea of turning that placid guy into something more suited to his tastes intrigued him, but he soon realized that he liked him a little too much.

Hannibal looked at Will in awe as he returned to the house, listened to him repeat the notes, and began to understand how his mind worked. From there to realize that he was falling down with all his shoes, it had been a moment.

There was no one else who could have bragged about taking Hannibal Lecter more than Will Graham, and doing absolutely nothing.

Hannibal snorted around the cigarette, thinking of the analogy, and found himself staring with a blank stare at the heart-shaped pink neon attached to the wall in front of him.

Hannibal wanted to drain Will, hear him beg, have every fiber of his body and mind. He wanted to take him to the limit and leave him there, watch those blue eyes fill with desire and anger, see them shaded with pleasure and blur, fix his lips, lips that every girl would envy, hatch in a lament, blush from bites. He wanted to pull his hair up to make him scream and lose his mouth in their weave. He wanted to feel the scratches on his back, put his fingers to his throat and tighten.

It was a fantasy too intoxicating to let go. It was morbid and suffocating, but it made him feel alive. It turned away boredom, watered his darker side. Nothing prevented it from being anything else. Something a little more consistent than a little uninhibited sex.

The way Will reasoned was fascinating: he had the ability to slip from one mind to another, walk around in it as he wanted, and he didn't exploit it at all. Too polite. Too repressed.

But Hannibal felt that he had a certain space of darkness, unexplored, that he would like to awaken. Someone kind of likened. He had never found anyone to really consider a peer of his.

There had been flatterers, ass-kissers ready for anything to get his favor or his attention, but they had been nothing but rats buzzing around him, hoping for both a bread crust and a kick.

Being indifferent to people like that worked great, and Hannibal had deluded himself that the little attraction he had seen in Will towards him led him to do the same.

But, evidently, he would have to fight for what he wanted this time, and the idea exalted him.

He had made a miscalculation, but he could put things right. It was enough to facilitate the situation in a certain way, then it would have been enough to observe the evolution of events.

Hannibal never forced the circumstances. He folded the path a little in the direction he wanted, then watched the marble go for itself. There was always a chance he'd do something unexpected.

Will surprised him. Even irritated him, but you don't die of disappointment. The astonishment had been greater, and far more welcome. Nothing for a long time surprised him anymore.

People were boring, predictable, petty in their little grudges and animal in their cravings. Hannibal had always felt out of place in the crowd. He preferred a well-decorated solitude, but now the desire to share had become powerful. Having someone walking by his side didn't seem so terrible anymore. Someone who understood him, where he could mirror without having to wear a mask.

He looked at the pink neon trembling, and finished his cigarette. It was time to make a move.

Matthew Brown was filthy and quite vulgar, but he wasn't an idiot. He knew how to move if he wanted to get something and was ready to follow orders if they brought him an advantage. He and Hannibal could not stand each other, and the latter was perfectly aware that the other would jump at his throat at the first opportunity.

On the other side, there was Francis Dolarhyde, insecure, shy, sensitive and with a tendency to explosive crises of anger, all concentrated in a meter and ninety muscles. A feral combination. Hannibal had for him the pitiful sympathy that one has towards the snarling pooch that barks from the same spot every day, and to which a condescending glance or a bone is struck.

He had outstanding accounts with both of them, as far as Will was concerned, with one for reproaching him in a dismal way, with the other for almost ruining his face, but that did not detract from the fact that he could use their brutality and littleness to get to him. Not the most elegant of strategies, but for once, Hannibal could sacrifice aesthetics to the goal. In addition, he would have had the chance to get rid of two hassle, which was not little.

He came out of the room, his hands in his pockets, a precise idea in mind.

No one mentioned Hannibal Lecter in front of Will, it was a well-established thing, without anyone really knowing why. Beverly and Alana were the first to understand, the first time one of them had casually mentioned Hannibal and Will had stiffened, as if he was struck by a lighting. They knew he had left the apartment, but they didn't ask any questions.

Frederick Chilton, on the other hand, had not yet learned.

That day, he walked into the cafeteria, sat in front of Will, who was having breakfast with the two girls, and put a flyer on the table. It was the announcement of a Black Swans concert the next night, at Iron Moon. The Black Swans were Hannibal's band.

Will laid down the cup of coffee, with which he was about to choke, and looked at the roommate, inexpressive.

Frederick gave him an incredulous look:

" Come on, everybody wants to go, and I have tickets." Declared.

Alana frothed:

" Who gave you the tickets? It's a fraternity event." She retorted, but he shook his head:

" I've got Abel Gideon in my hand. He owes me a favor. " He replied, with a conspirator's look. 

" I don't go there. You go. " Will cut short, and got up to leave.

" Oh, don't spoil it. You never go anywhere, classrooms, room, library and back. What's the point of college if you don't have some fun? " He laughed at him.

" The only time I went to a party, I got punched in the face. So, thank you, but no, thank you. " He concluded, leaving.

Reading that name had given him a sudden squeeze on his bowels. It was all so ridiculous. He did his best to avoid Hannibal, and he had succeeded easily. Alana had also stopped dating him, even though Will didn't know why and didn't ask her, so he shouldn't be afraid of gossip.

He wasn't going to parties, he didn't go to clubs. He was just studying. That's what college was for, after all.

The memory of that kiss had not stopped tormenting him for a single day. Or rather, for one night. If during the day he could distract himself, when he went to sleep, his psyche began to storm him with extremely vivid dreams and even more realistic sensations. Hannibal kissed and fucked him in every way imaginable, and he would wake up on time, angry and turned on. He masturbated with his face in the pillow, and then he cried. It was pathetic.

He had then begun to stay awake on purpose, watching porn to try to cool that absurd erotic craze, but he found himself looking for videos where one of the actors resembled Hannibal as much as possible, moving his hand at an increasingly frantic pace, murmuring his name as he came.

He hated him from the heart, for that.

Will didn't want to see him, he didn't want to meet him. He just wanted to forget about him, but his own mind acted against his will. The name on the flyer appeared to flash on the card, as if calling him. He pictured him on the keyboard, his long, quick fingers on the keys, the strobe lights on his face, the hair gathered in the messy bun, and the cigarette between his lips, the same ones that had taken over cruelly and delightfully of his.

He couldn't die like that, just for a kiss.

He stopped alone, at an unspecified spot on campus, without even knowing where he was going. There was a wall and sat down, with his head in his hands. He was going crazy. He could not turn into a jelly at the mere indirect mention of his presence. It didn't make sense.

Hannibal didn't give a damn about him, he made it clear. Why he had to pine like that? He felt like a 13-year-old girl at the first crush, an obsessive 13-year-old with problems, though. It was unhealthy to cling to a fixation like that. What did Hannibal do to reduce it to a pudding?

Will had tried to recall their month of non-cohabitation, before that famous evening, trying to figure out if he had had stimuli of some kind before.

He had gradually remembered a series of sensory details that probably must have acted in his subconscious. Hannibal carried a certain kind of expensive-smelling aftershave, which somehow remained in the air in the rooms where he had passed. He put complex spices into food, and their aroma hovered in the kitchen. He always smoked the same kind of cigarettes, and their smoke was light, almost odorless. He played at night, and Will had listened to him in his sleep. He walked in a way that made his step distinctive. His calligraphy, tilted and tidy, filled the pages on his desk.

All this, for some reason, had subconsciously imprinted itself on Will, who must have developed an attraction without even realizing it. He hardly knew his appearance, never seeing him, but he was perfectly aware of his presence, and this had had an effect on him. An unwelcome, annoying effect. Inevitable.

It was enough for him to speak only once, for that set of sensory calls to be added into something different, a true, thinking figure, with a mind that understood him.

Sure, he could have pretended, but Will felt that wasn't the case. It gave him the idea that Hannibal had never lied to him, at least, not really. And that made him feel even worse.

He had to go to the library, bury all those stupid paranoids in the books. If he didn't keep himself anchored to reality, he risked drifting.

" If you want to get something, you have to point to her friend, that Beverly Katz. Or your old friend, Alana. Will Graham is an old-fashioned young knight. He's going to run if he hears they're in danger. It's already happened, after all. " Abel pointed out to him.

Abel Gideon was the only one to whom Hannibal had a slight regard. He was certainly not a friend of his, but he was more controllable than others, and occasionally he made reasoning that also made sense.

Hannibal looked at him, skeptical:

" Yes, it has already happened, but it was not wanted. He's not going to get fooled by a situation like this again. " He retorted.

" He mustn't be fooled, it's only in its nature. He has a certain tendency to be the hero of the situation, doesn't he? He's seen. " Abel pointed out to him.

Hannibal allowed himself a few seconds, and a small, satisfied grin, remembering Will paraded fearlessly before Dolarhyde. He didn't lack nerves, that was obvious.

Nodded:

"All right. Get Chilton to do his job, and Brown and Dolarhyde are where they need to be. Nothing should happen to the girls, you know? It's all scene. " . There was no reason for them to really get in the way, they were just a decoy.

Abel gave his word, and went off to class. For his part, Hannibal headed to the library. He had to get distracted every now and then.

Will was in the Psychiatry section, as usual. He was looking for something he couldn't find, and that wasn't weird, too. There was no one else at that time, for that Will preferred to bury himself in there, where there was no risk of social interactions or unwanted encounters. Or so he believed.

He had just put away a monumental volume on the shelf, and was about to turn around, when he could literally feel himself grasping from behind.

" Fuck!" He managed to articulate without shouting. The arms that held him tightened him more decisively, and a familiar smell filled his nostrils and plunged his heart into his bowels:

" Hannibal, what -- " He began, but the words died in his throat, because the other began, without any qualms, to kiss his neck.

Will stiffened and wanted to free himself, but all he could do was let slip a half-sigh, while his head tilted instinctively to the side, to give him more room to manoeuvre. He heard him smile, diabolical, against his skin:

" So, Will, did you miss me? I'd say so. " He groped him, gently biting the lobe of his ear.

Irritated, Will managed to deviate a little, to avoid getting teased:

" What the hell are you doing? First you send me blank, then you come and harass me in a public place? " He retorted, in a poisonous tone. 

The fact that his mind was literally squealing in a continuous litany  _pleasedon'tstoppleasedon'tstop_ didn't help him focus on how much he was pissed with Hannibal, and all the good intentions he's made in recent weeks about wanting to get rid of him. Even his own body contradicted him, sending him bursts of satisfaction with all the limbs, and making him suspect that, if he could, he would purr like a cat.

And Hannibal knew this well: he adjusted one arm around his chest, so that he could move one hand to caress his chin and hair, and the other around his waist, fiddling with his fingers with the hem of his shirt.

" Am I really harassing you?" He provoked him, passing his thumb over his lips.

Will blushed violently, and felt practically melted against his body, as hot and excited as his own, by how much he could feel. He couldn't resist:

" Please..." He whispered, turning his head completely towards him, looking for his mouth. Hannibal did not made him repeat himself, and involved him in a deep, thirsty, desperate kiss.

Will let him do it for a while, then abruptly disbanded from the squeeze, pushed him against the shelf behind him, and took control. He took his face in his hands and kissed him with an irrepressible hunger, while Hannibal's hands came down to caress his back, and then down to clutch his buttocks in a possessive, explicit grip.

Will sighed, letting him go to catch air, and in response, began to rub his loins against his own. He seemed to catch fire, clearly feeling his erection, and Hannibal's growl against his mouth. It was leading him to exasperation, and he reacted.

He drew him forcefully towards himself and began to kiss his jaw, throat, neck, fingers in his hair, as in his wildest fantasies. Will did not worry about beginning to pant, his eyes turned upside down, his head backwards:

" God, Han... Hannibal " He exhaled, completely won, " Fuck me, bastard... fuck me. "

He heard another growl, even more fervent, and felt his teeth in his shoulder, just before the pain. Hannibal bit him deeply, but without cutting his skin, tearing an uncertain lament, then began to kiss him again, with frenzy, and let him go with a bang, just like the first time.

Will felt his legs soft and had to let himself go against the shelf to keep himself on his feet. He was out of breath, his lips burning with clutch, with an erection more than evident in his pants, and his heart beating as if he had run for a kilometre.

Hannibal was in the same condition as he was, and at that moment he was passing a hand over his face, as if to regain self-control.

" I thought you hated me," He observed, still short of breath, casting a sardonic glance at him, but he still had his gaze lit by desire. Will felt a certain agitation under his pants, seeing him like this, but he tried to keep himself stoic:

" I hate you. You made me a plaintive teenager. " He declared. 

Hannibal snorted:

" If you knew what you are doing to me. I can't stop thinking about you. " He confessed, openly.

Will felt his heart beat faster, but he did not want to give in so easily:

" It's your fault. Why did you tell me you didn't give a damn about me? " He retorted.

Hannibal stared at him. He had a normal breath now, and he carried a strand of rebellious hair behind his ear, before answering:

" I thought I'd make myself interesting. I underestimated you." He admitted, with a vaguely contrite look.

Will clasped his lips and looked away from him. To be so smart, he was really an idiot.

He came back to turn to him, frowning:

" What do you want, then?" He asked, in a harsh tone.

The other barely clasped his eyes:

" Know if you want to date me. Really, this time. " He replied.

Will was invaded by conflicting emotions: he would give away an arm to take a step forward and become something more, but he did not trust him. He had a tendency to manipulate that he didn't like at all. He was handsome, sexy and everything, but he could get it out of his head. There was too much tension between them, of all kinds. He was on a dangerous path.

But there was also understanding, and an undeniable chemistry. Will did not feel uncomfortable with him and felt an inexhaust curiosity. But he feared it wasn't enough.

" I don't trust you, Hannibal, not quite. You've already played with me once, and I'm afraid you might do it again. You have no limits. " He confessed, with unexpected and sudden chest pain.

He understood that he had struck him: his amber eyes widened for a moment, and Hannibal bit his lips, looking away:

" I get it. Is there anything I can do to change your mind? " He tried, maintaining a neutral tone.

Will shook his head:

" I don't know. I don't think so. You drive me crazy, but it's not enough. " He confessed.

Hannibal peered at him, his eyes turned provocative:

" I've never been not enough for someone. Usually, I am too much. " He declared, frankly.

Will felt a sting of irritation. When he was hit, he attacked, he realized.

" Maybe I'm too much for you." He asserted, with swagger.

The sneer he had come to know reappeared:

" We'll see."

He cast a final gloomy glance, halfway between defiance and anger, and went away.

Will sighed deeply, still shaken. He was afraid he's made a big mistake.

Alana did not expect to be approached by Abel Gideon, not at that time.

The one with Hannibal had been a little story, at the end of the day, she had hardly known his friends, as he did not know hers.

And yet, there Abel is, outside the Clinical Psychology classroom, with two cups of coffee in his hands and the calm, indifferent air of the Cheshire Cat.

" Alana, good morning. Do you think we can talk? " He greeted her.

They found themselves strolling on campus, and Abel wasted no time in the reason for their meeting:

" You and I, Alana, we need to keep an eye on our mutual friend, Hannibal Lecter. "

She frothed:

" I think he is perfectly capable of looking after himself. What makes you think I need to be kept an eye on? " 

" Well, he's not in himself, lately, and it's your friend, Will Graham, to blame. "

" I don't know what happened between them. "

" I do, and he's becoming quite obsessed with it. Under normal conditions, I wouldn't be interested at all, but seeing loose dogs like Dolarhyde and Brown roam around campus, and someone as smart as Hannibal to use them, troubles me. I look at him as an example, I don't want anyone else to look at him as something... Negative. "Abel explained.

Alana looked at him:

" Negative in what sense?"

" Negative in the sense of doing something extremely stupid to attract the attention of a guy, when he might have who damn wants."

Alana remained a moment in silence, processing, then asked:

" What can I do?"

" You could try to talk to Hannibal tomorrow, and try to get him to come up with more mild advice. He can become discreetly possessive, did you imagine? "

No, she didn't imagine it, actually. She couldn't think of what Hannibal was capable of, during their flirtation he seemed rather indifferent. It was strange to believe that he could have a real feeling. The girl sighed: apparently, at that concert she should have gone, eventually. He decided to ask Beverly to come with her. She seemed to be the right guy for a situation like that.

Francis Dolarhyde was as big as a closet, but he couldn't hold up the eyes of others for more than half a second. Matthew Brown found it nerve-racking, but he needed his muscles.

In the locker room of the campus pool, leaning against the damp wall and illuminated by the raw white light, with the smell of chlorine everywhere, he tried to explain to him what he wanted to do, but he only looked on the ground, nodding.

" The thing is simple, Dolarhyde, we just have to get close enough, then you can teach him a lesson, to him and Lecter. I don't think it's that complicated. " He was pressing him, irritated.

Dolarhyde glanced at him, but he immediately diverted:

" I thought it was Lecter who told you to find a way to get him to come to the club. " Objected.

Brown held back from rolling his eyes:

" And it's very appropriate, for us, don't you think? We turn his conquest plan against him so we can get rid of him. Aren't you sick of galloping? So he's going to plant him to oppose your promotion to Lambda Helios, and maybe expel him. " He pointed out.

Dolarhyde bit his disfigured lip, reflecting. Entering that fraternity meant everything to him, and seeing himself constantly overtaken in the hierarchy by Hannibal Lecter, of good family, brilliant, surrounded by the most beautiful girls on campus, sweetheart of the professors, was unbearable. He had sweated the admission, Lecter had been granted everything.

He looked at Brown and nodded, but frothed:

"And what comes to you? Why do you care so much about Graham? " He wanted to know, in a sombre tone.

Brown gave him a sardonic sneer:

" Hannibal Lecter has to stop pointing other people's stuff. " It was the answer, laconic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always remember I'm not a English native speaker. Please, let me know about mistakes


	4. 4

As every Saturday, Will had spent the day at the shelter, with the dogs. Detaching a little from campus life was good for him, plus, he especially needed to be alone.

What had happened the day before tortured him more than ever. He could not forget the abandonment he had felt, the uncontrollable desire. He had never been so taken by anyone, and in such a humiliating way.

Needless to say, he had not slept at all, the feeling of Hannibal's hands, of his lips all over the ever-present body.

One part of him desperately wanted to go back and not reject him, the other still did not trust. Maybe he should just stop being paranoid, take him to bed and forget about it.

But there was more to his gaze and in his words that made him believe that that would not be enough. He wanted to talk to him, get to know him, enter his world. This went far beyond physical intimacy. He didn't want to name what he was feeling, because it was ridiculous, but it wasn't just attraction, evidently.

He returned to the room with his hands in the pockets of his jacket, lost in his thoughts, and almost did not see that the room was empty. Of course, Frederick must have gone to the club, and he was glad that neither he nor the girls insisted on letting him go with them.

As he undressed for a shower, he took a moment to observe himself in the mirror: he really could be attractive, he wondered, idly, studying with a critical eye.

He was proportionate well, yes, and he had a decent enough physique to allow him to do some photo books, in high school, to set aside money for college. Photographers liked his face, he recalled, with big, navy blue eyes, and "purely feminine" lips as he had once been pointed out. At the time he wore his hair longer, a mane of brown curls that made the girls want to caress them. Rarely did anyone go further than this.

He thought back to how Hannibal had passed his fingers between them, and shuddered. He wanted it to happen again.

He sighed and slipped into the shower. Before he really knew it, he was masturbating again, imagining Hannibal's lips still on his neck. He began to pant, overwhelmed by the fantasy and warmth of the water, but it was not enough. He let his finger slip inside, then a second, dared with a third, taking a more regular pace. He began to tremble from head to toe, as rising waves of pleasure poured down on him. He got lost in the feeling, going into blackouts for a second as he came, and let himself go against the shower wall, trying to breathe.

Perhaps the idea of a single night wasn't so stupid, he mused, as the water washed away every trace of that defeat from his skin.

When he went out, he stood and looked at the flyer of the evening, with the invitation printed, while he was dressing.

Without thinking, he let go of his sweatpants, wore jeans, a T-shirt and a jacket, and walked out.

The Iron Moon was one of those places that Will would never attend, as a rule. Excluding the fact that he didn't frequent clubs in general, that was just the kind he would rule out first.

It had that chic/alternative look that said " Privileged students with rebellious manners " at every turn: walls painted in black with posters of new wave, gothic and grunge bands, neon-written in fluo colors that accompanied glass tables where elaborate cocktails were served, decidedly out of budget for normal students.

At that moment he was invaded by a lullaby sung by a rather delicate and rather otherworldly female voice, which stood on a guitar and keyboard base and spoke of some tormenting and cursed love.

Will clasped his lips at the thought, fully realizing what he had done by coming there, and wondering what he was actually supposed to do at that moment.

No one had seen him. He could still turn around and leave. Instead, he approached the counter, ordered a beer and waited, not even he knew what.

He completely ignored the people around him, trying to process a speech, but then he realized that the more he thought about it, the less the right words came to him.

As he had gone before, it was more than likely that he would just jump on Hannibal to make himself understood.

The idea made him smile, in spite of himself, and while he still thought about it, the lights in the hall dropped, only to turn on in shades of blue, while the speaker announced the Black Swans.

Will's stomach jumped.

The boy finished the last sip of beer, took a breath and mingled with the crowd that was gathering under the stage.

He passed a few girls in mini dresses and dudes in studded jackets and combat boots, before arriving at an acceptable distance, at a point where the keyboard was clearly visible. He wasn't exactly under the stage, like a groupie, but not even where he would have been impossible to see him.

His heart sobbed a little for the expectation as the band arrived. Will paid no attention to the other members of the group, his eyes found Hannibal and followed him until he settled down to the instrument. He stood a little staring at him, adjusting a few knobs on the keyboard and fixing certain cables, the cigarette between his fingers. He finished it with a long shot, which pipped his cheekbones, and as he crushed it and put it in the pocket ashtray, he looked up at the audience, with a bored look.

Even at a distance, Will could see very well the change of expression that passed through his face, as he crossed his gaze with his own. At the moment, he saw surprise, then an undeniable joy, finally, a flash of greed.

His heart began to beat faster, and he wondered if he would be fooled enough to run on stage and kiss him in front of everyone.

He didn't move.

Hannibal didn't look away from him even when they attacked with the first song. He seemed perfectly capable of playing, without having to look at the keys, but every now and then he would get lost in the music, closing his eyes and tilting his head backwards, abandoning himself to those dark and scratchy litany.

Will listened to music that was decidedly too morbid for his taste, his lips slightly hatched, as if to drink the rhythm and the image of Hannibal playing. It was toxic, and it was exhilarating. He couldn't give up all this, he couldn't reject it.

During the break between pieces, Hannibal stood up and spoke to the band's vocalist, who looked up at the audience and nodded. When she started again, she announced that the keyboardist was dedicating the next song to a person in the room, and all the girls around Will exploded into exclamations. Will, for his part, blushed violently and did his best not to hide his face in his hands.

He was so choked with emotion, he understood half the lyrics of the song, but he caught phrases like:

_" God feared in whose arms I'm sleeping..._

_" Be still until the dawn..._

_"Don't fear anyone's listening... It's foregone, all foregone. "_

That he could not misunderstand as implicitly inviting, although the text was not directly romantic or erotic. It was particularly difficult for him to concentrate or wait patiently for the end of the performance, but when the final round of applause began, he snapped forward, asking permission a dozen times.

Hannibal had been plated by a plethora of adoring girls, and Will stopped to one side, his hands in his pockets, his gaze on the ground, unable to suppress a gush of jealousy. Jealousy, for God's sake.

He looked up, to see him stand out from his fans and come towards him at a safe pace.

Will walked away from the wall, and began:

" Hannibal- " But he took his face in his hands and kissed him, completely heedless of who was around them.

Will held his breath, taken by surprise, but he recovered enough to match it with enthusiasm. He could feel his fingers in his hair, his lips looking for him, thirsty, the smell of cigarettes and aftershave and he let himself be drowned.

Hannibal parted from him languidly, this time, and laid his forehead against his, with his eyes closed:

" You've come. You really came. " He murmured, breathless.

" I can't stay away." Will replied, with trembling, but clear words.

He heard him, let out a half-laugh, then kissed him again. When he left, Hannibal had liquid, burning eyes:

" Stay with me, tonight."

It was not a plea, but little was missing. Will nodded, unable to speak, and weaved his fingers to his own, ready to follow him.

Hannibal took him to the backstage, where he asked him to wait a moment while he retrieved his stuff, and disappeared a second later. Will returned back to the wall, with his hands in his pockets, waiting in silence, his eyes back on the ground, trying to control the tremor of expectation that shook him. Hannibal was all he wanted at the time. He could not stop biting his lips, where the touch of his still lingered, and sighed impatiently.

Hannibal returned quickly, as promised, and went out with him, into the parking lot of the club, again holding his hand. As they walked, in silence, he took it to his mouth and kissed his fingers, with something that seemed reverence. Will looked away, not to show that he was flared.

At one point however, Hannibal stopped with a bang, and cursed:

" Fuck."

Will looked at him, but noticed that he was staring at a point in front of them.

Leaning on a black car, there were two guys he recognized very well: Brown and Dolarhyde. Will turned to Hannibal, questioningly, and saw that he had a feral, furious look. He let him go and moved at pace towards the two:

"Get out of my car." He ordered. 

Brown merely addressed him with an insolent grin:

" You can't give us orders anymore, Lecter. We're on our own now. You've put enough crimps in us." He replied, detaching himself from the shiny bodywork of the car and facing him. 

Will spoke to his side, without a word, and Brown chuckled:

" You won't let your little princess get hurt, will you, Hannibal? I wish she'd stay cute. " 

Hannibal seemed to repress a growl:

" Stay out, Will. " He told him, without losing sight of Brown.

" Forget it. " It was the replica. 

Dolarhyde snorted, and walked towards him:

" I don't give a damn about his face. " He declared, grabbing him by the front of his shirt.

Will strained himself completely, preparing, but Dolarhyde suddenly dropped him, landed by Hannibal, who had literally thrown himself at him.

What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion: Dolarhyde tried to hit Hannibal, but he managed to stop his fist in mid-air. Dolarhyde then reacted with a knee, which forced Hannibal to bend and fall backwards.

Will tried to intervene, but was blocked behind by Brown:

" Stay calm, doll, or your boyfriend will do something worse." Hissed. 

Will writhed in his grasp, then violently threw his head backwards, against his nasal septum. The noise was both disgusting and strangely satisfying.

He turned suddenly and let go a punch:

" Call me "Doll" one more time and I'll blow all your teeth." 

His hands were clenched, his knuckles stained with blood, his chest rising and he was frantically lowering.

He looked at him for an instant, on the ground, then turned to help Hannibal.

He was worse off than him: Dolarhyde was bigger and out of control. At that moment he was clutching his fingers around his throat, roaring like an animal. Will jumped in his back, trying to hook his neck with his elbow. He succeeded in half, making sure that he at least turned his hands away, but he was shaken up and ended up on the ground.

He expected a kick, but a choked growl told him that Hannibal had got up and tackled him before he could move.

Will pulled himself on an elbow, and rose quickly, stumbling, leaping to the waist of Dolarhyde, who now Hannibal was holding still with his arms behind his back, and a knee pointed between his kidneys:

" You and Brown must disappear, you understand? Disappear. Let's pretend this never happened, and nothing's going to happen to you. Otherwise, we will come looking for you." He promised him, in a guttural tone, his breath snapped. Will took his revenge with a punch in the stomach of Dolarhyde, which caused him to bend, then Hannibal left him, vehemently driving him away.

Dolarhyde looked at them, with barred eyes, then raised his hands:

" I'm leaving, I'm leaving." He ran, and walked away, limping. Brown was already gone.

Will waited to hear his footsteps fade, then rushed to Hannibal. He took his face in his hands to assess the damage: he had a lip that was bleeding a lot, and an eye was swelling. He lifted his shirt, but had no bruises, at least not yet. He was too worried, to focus on his well-sculpted torso.

Hannibal looked at him, eyes full of infinite wonder, but also of pain, not physical. He turned away his hands and held them between his:

" I'm an asshole, Will, you're right. " He began, without looking him in the eyes. He seemed to be ashamed.

Will's gaze was sharpened:

" Yes, you are. You made this mess, didn't you? " He guessed. 

Hannibal nodded, slowly.

Will sighed:

" I find it absurd that you haven't thought of anything less drastic, to get my attention. " He detected, in a sarcastic tone.

Hannibal clasped his lips, and at last lifted his eyes in his:

" I wanted to reconstruct a scene similar to that time at Lambda Selene, but Alana came to talk to me. He made me think. I wasn't thinking clearly, I can't if you're around. " He confessed. 

He breathed deeply, hissing the air between his teeth, and walked away from his grasp, with irritation:

" It piss me off to be such a slut for you, Graham! " He exclaimed, shaking his head.

Will stood motionless for a moment, then struck him in the middle of the chest, pushing him:

" What do you want to do, then, beat me up too until the heat ends, Lecter?" He blew, provoking him.

" Who knows, maybe it's a good idea. " He replied, grabbing him by the front of his shirt, and luring him to himself. He looked him in the eye, his fingers trembling, then he bent down suddenly.

Their lips crushed with impetuousness, with anger. Will had the impression that he wanted to eat his face. He clawed his fingers into his hair, loosening them violently, and digging his tongue deep into his mouth. He distinctly felt the taste of blood, from the split lip. It was a mess, damp and ranse, which tasted of tobacco, of aftershave, of the two of them together.

Will groaned, growled softly between his lips and squeezed to his body, holding him as if he wanted to suffocate him.

Hannibal went down with his hands again to grab his buttocks. He couldn't be more explicit than that.

They came off, remaining for a few seconds to look to each other, out of breath. Without speaking, Hannibal retreated to the car, and opened it. He got into the driver, and Will slid past him, in the passenger's seat.

They both looked only at the street, without saying a word. The electricity between them literally crackled the air inside the cockpit, they could hear only the beating of their hearts and the stunted breaths.

Upon entering the apartment, Will felt like he had never left it. His imprint was gone, but Hannibal's presence was so important that he realized that he had been drenched from it from the beginning. It wasn't an attraction born out of nowhere, it had literally slipped under his skin.

He climbed the stairs to the rooms as if they were walking completely in the dark, Hannibal in front of him. The door to his room was closed, and he understood that no one had replaced him. Hannibal had not wanted anyone else in that house to occupy his space.

He opened the door of his room, where Will had never set foot, entered after him and closed it.

Will had time to see that he kept a grand piano in his room, before he ended up against the door, Hannibal's mouth pressed obsessively on his.

He kissed him deeply, drinking his breaths, tongues slipping on each other, rubbing against his teeth, as if licking a strand of pearls, fingers in each other's hair, lips tormented by fleeting bites. They broke up and found each other about ten times, before finally separating. Hannibal's lower lip no longer bled, but he was swollen and flushed, and made Will want to bite it again.

Instead, Will brushed his fingers over it, gently, as if to feel it with something else, that it wasn't the mouth.

Hannibal closed his hand in his grasp, and began kissing his fingers one by one, and then carried them on his chest. Will lost a breath, and spread his hand on the cloth, sliding it towards his stomach and lower belly. He stopped at the hem of his jeans, looking up at Hannibal's, as if to ask permission. He was stroking his hair, slowly braiding the curls to his fingers like rings, while the other hand lingered on his side. He moved it, accompanying him to unbutton his pants with an impatient gesture.

He broke away from him to remove them, get rid of the boxers and take off his shirt, with a single fluid gesture.

Will watched him undress, with his breath accelerated, and with trembling hands, and as he quarreled with the zip of his jeans, Hannibal, who had never taken his eyes off him, turned his hands away and thought about it himself, taking them apart and throwing them to the side.

He stood on his knees in front of him, gave him an almost reverential look, then bent down to welcome his cock between his lips.

Will groaned at the contact and bent his head back, while Hannibal surrounded him one palm at a time, until he had it completely, and began to move his tongue all its length, from the base to the top, leaving him and resuming it continuously. He was making him crazy. Will twitched his fingers against the wood of the door behind him, then sank them through Hannibal's long hair, pulling his locks, as if to give him a rhythm.

He did not even allow him to approach the end: he tasted it, for a while, then gave it away a stretch, bringing his mouth on his belly and climbing on his chest, up to his throat, where he tended to bite, lick and suck, until he left a regular set of reddish marks on his skin.

He briefly returned to his lips, rubbed a cheek and nose against his beard, then kissed his eyelids, forehead, hair. Will felt overwhelmed, absorbed, but he did not want to lose his grip. He surrounded his back with his arms, as if to hold him even closer.

In a subtly charged gesture, Hannibal clasped his hands behind his thighs and lifted him, without apparent effort, moving him off the wall and continuing to kiss every inch of skin he had on aim, with an almost terrifying voracity.

Will gasped, but let himself be carried, reciprocating the kisses as much as he could.

He expected to end up in bed, and was stunned when Hannibal closed the piano keyboard with a dry blow and left him there.

" What are you doing?" He asked, half inebriated by all that passion, while Hannibal moved the bench, to create a more solid support, and then walked away. 

He heard him tinkering in the drawer by the bed, and understood everything, blushing, when Hannibal knelt on the bench, grabbed him by the hips and arranged it exactly in front of him, with his legs open.

Will lifted up on one elbow and watched him discard the condom, wear it, and open the lube bottle with a snap, shaking imperceptibly.

Hannibal noticed:

"Are you afraid? Have you ever been with a guy? "

He asked, in a vibrant voice, but not without empathy.

Will shook his head, and he turned to him a fiery glance and a half-sneer:

" Then I'll go easy... at the beginning. " He promised, rubbing his hands between them. The other, already excited, he felt his own cock still tending, in an almost painful way. He held his breath, and let himself go against the shiny surface of the piano, while Hannibal's tapered fingers, bathed in lubricant, began to caress his cock and in the middle of his buttocks.

He gently erupted his entrance, then slipped his first finger inside, slowly as he had assured. Will arched his back, and held a murmur between his lips, feeling him circling and back and forth. When he felt his second finger come in, he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, not so much for the discomfort, but for the pleasure. He felt tight, and the more he became foreign, the more he felt he still wanted it.

" Please... please don't stop. " He begged him.

Hannibal snorted, and even without seeing him, Will knew he was smiling, and he tried with a third finger. Will let go of a lament, but tried to adapt. After a while, the feeling substituted, and he began to feel some pleasure again. Hannibal began to move back and forth, maddeningly slowly, bending the phalanxes to hook when he reached the bottom and relaxing them as he exited.

Will groaned, cock still and tormented almost to the limit:

" God, Hannibal, I'm going to -- " He exhaled, and his fingers left him completely, suddenly. He stood there, his chest quivering with short, stunted breaths, and he heard Hannibal approach and bend over him:

" Will, look at me. " He ordered him. 

He obeyed, and Hannibal kissed him, with a certain delicacy, and brought his hands to his kidneys, tightly. Will understood, and surrounded his shoulders with his arms, closing his eyes, in anticipation.

He sank slowly, palm to palm, leaving him breathless. Again, Will arched and bent his head back, instinctively his knees.

" Shh... so, so, Graham. " Hannibal beeded him, speaking in his hair. 

He began to move, and after a few pushes, Will heard him begin to sigh. He was so sensual, he instinctively found himself swinging his hips at his own pace, pushing himself against him and starting to sigh in turn.

Hannibal gradually increased his speed and depth, grabbing the shiny wood of the piano with one hand and holding Will tighter with the other, lifting him towards himself. Will groaned, feeling more and more overrun, conquered and won, and wrapped his legs around his hips, to get up and bring himself closer.

Every thrust shook him deep, mutating him into a trembling, mured cluster, his heart throbbing mad and his eyes filled with tears. He heard only the squeak of the piano below him and Hannibal's breath, rough and rough in his ears, as his nails sank into his back and shoulders. It would have been full of scratches, then, but he didn't care. He didn't even care how loud he was panting and moaning, he couldn't control himself, as Hannibal's cock pressed into him, mercilessly. He had been sincere too, only the beginning had been delicate.

" Fuck, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop." Will sang to his ear, twisting his hair with his fingers.

Hannibal responded with a low guttural growl, planting his fingers in the flesh and pushing even harder, even deeper. Will was now at the limit, and clung to him in despair:

" Fuck me, fuck me, don't stop, I'm going to... I'm going to... He threw out, breathless.

His sex, trapped among them, was red-hot and tortured, forgotten, while the urges did not cease, indeed became violent, irresistible.

" Fuck!"

The orgasm overwhelmed him as if he had ended up in a tub of boiling water. His loins gave some other faint spasm, while the seed dripped on his belly and he let go of a groan that seemed an ecstatic, uncertain cry. He felt like he no longer had a single bone in his entire body, and he would have fallen backwards if Hannibal hadn't sustained him. He kept his eyes closed, while waves of pleasure crossed him like electric shocks.

Hannibal had not diminished his pace, but he continued to storm his body, amid brief groans and whispered imprecations. Will realized that he was close to came, when he grabbed him by the thighs and began to push with no regard.

He opened his eyes and raised his head, to capture the image of him in a complete possessive fury, his body stretched out, fingers spasmodically clasped around his legs, his head back, with his hair messed on his face. As far as he had just come, Will felt stiffened again, at that sight. He stood staring at him, he wouldn't lose that show for anything in the world.

When he finally reached orgasm in turn, Hannibal roared, literally, and held out, like a young panther who assaulted his prey. He breathed deeply a couple of times, his chest glossing with sweat that sank and rose lazily, then drew Will to himself and kissed him, with a relentless eagerness, whispering something incomprehensible between their lips.

Will hugged him, answering it to the best it could, ecstatic by his fingers in his hair. Hannibal let him get back on his feet, and stroked him languidly everywhere, biting his lips, and continuing to repeat the same words in a completely unknown language:

_" Tu tobula, mano meile. "_

Although he did not understand them, Will could not help but feel the reverence they were hiding. He untied away from Hannibal and looked at him, looking for his amber eyes, still lit by pleasure. He still wanted it, but he was ashamed of it. He had never made love with anyone, in that way.

It had been more of a sex, though it had been fueled by fury, excitement, frustration. It was something started before, unknowingly. And now Will felt he couldn't do without it anymore. He could not give up on this, and to him. He clutched it in another kiss, but Hannibal separated first. He shook his hair away from his face and looked at him:

" Let's go to bed. You must have your back in pieces. " He remarked.

He threw away the used condom and passed Will a towel to clean himself, the courtesy of a guest.

They lay down in front of each other, and Will studied him. He had a strong, powerful and lithe body, just like a wild feline. His resting sex was, however, quite remarkable.

He had expected him to be tattooed, but he was completely blanked. Strange.

He was looking at him lazily, as if he were recharging his batteries, and he held a hand on his side, drawing small circles with his fingers on his skin.

" You're nice to look at. I wouldn't stop for hours. " Hannibal said to him, in a quiet tone, as if he were talking to him about the weather forecast. Will blushed, and he felt pretty stupid, as if they hadn't just made love.

" You are... Strong. " he replied, not knowing how else to describe him. It made him smile. Will was discovering that he had a soft spot for that smile, which was more of a sneer.

" Are you still mad at me, Will?" He asked, looking for cigarettes in the nightstand and lighting one.

" Don't hope you get away with that so easily. You're impossible. "

" Yes, they told me." He took a tug, then blew away the smoke in a blue cloud, looking at him with subs:

" I noticed you from the first second you set foot in here. After two hours of walking around the house, I already knew you were going to make me lose my mind, so I kept you away." Confessed.

" And so you had to come up with a stupid plan to get my attention. Did that happen at Lambda Selene? " He wanted to know Will, half frowning, half amused.

" I declare myself innocent. But it gave me the idea. You like being a hero, Will. " He noted.

" Not at all!" He protested, but Hannibal glanced at him: " Yes, sure. "

Will stared at him:

" Was it your way of punishing me for being the good guy next door?" He Tried.

" Maybe, a little, yes." Hannibal took another shot, and fiddled with the cigarette between his fingers:

" I never thought I'd rely on those two idiots, but when you rejected me, I felt humiliated. I can't stand humiliation, and I can't stand how you make me feel. You could step on me, and I'd say thank you. No one's ever made me feel that way. " He confessed, without looking at him. 

Will stood still for a long moment, then slipped his cigarette and took a long shot. He didn't smoke, and it had been a long time since he had tried for the first time, but he managed not to choke and spoil the seductive atmosphere he was trying to create.

" Don't you want to punish me for that?" He tried it.

Hannibal was staring at him, lips hatched, and a twinkle crossed his eyes:

" I thought I was pretty determined with you, Will. " He noticed, moisting his lips.

Will cast a mischievous look at him:

" You may still be. " He teased him.

As much as Hannibal liked to hear him pray, Will didn't have to try any further to convince him. He took off his cigarette, crushed it into the ashtray on the nightstand, and drew Will to himself, forcefully. With a single quick movement he carried it under him and looked at him, his elbows propped up to the sides of his head. If before Will had felt overwhelmed, now he felt completely dominated. His cock waved slightly, ready to harden.

" The last thing about you I could believe, is that you were a greedy little one, mylimasis. " Hannibal told him, in a provocative tone.

Will did not reply, but merely tended to a kiss, which Hannibal conceded, but which he quickly interrupted:

"Don't be nice to me, don't attack,  _gražus berniukas_ ." He warned him:

" I'm going to make you scream like an eagle."

Will bit a lip:

" Try it. "

He hadn't even finished saying it, and Hannibal silenced him with a rude, hungry kiss. He was so greedy, that he brought their tongues to meet outside the confines of his lips, in an obscene, exposed way.

Will barely muttered, but was silenced again, because Hannibal sank his hands in his hair, both of them, and began to pull, forcing his head back, making him show his throat. Will waved, and groaned, when Hannibal came down to bite under his chin, and then down the trachea, to his collarbone, where he began to bite again, deep down, but without planting his teeth.

He left his mark and then sucked, moving on to the next part of the skin.

Will kept fidgeting, and he couldn't help but pass his fingers through his hair, pulling in turn. Hannibal ignored him, descending to his sternum, chest, stomach, lower belly. He skipped his sex and lifted his legs, to lay his lips on his entrance.

Will arched his back suddenly, with a smothered groan:

"Fuck, Hannibal... " He spat.

His tongue took a short turn inside, but he soon withdrew. Will felt Hannibal get up on his knees and take him by the shoulder.

Unceremoniously, he turned him, surrounded him with one arm, and lifted him against his chest. He breathed full lungs into his hair, then went down with his lips and tongue along his neck, shoulders and the length of his spine. To Will, he seemed to go crazy.

Now Hannibal covered him completely, his chest and belly against his back, one hand caressing his throat, the other between his thighs. He took his cock between his fingers and began to masturbate him without too much regard. Will reclining his head over his shoulder, panting uncontrollably.

" Don't come. Don't come, yet." Hannibal said to him in his ear.

He squeezed his fingers around his throat, very flat, then stronger and stronger, as the pace of his hand increased.

Will felt his breath stumble and the pleasure rise to vibrations all over his body. he gasped, and Hannibal loosened his grip, and gradually stopped his hand. He turned his face towards his and kissed him for a long time, then let him fall back on the mattress.

Will regained his breath, half shocked at how much he liked to be strangled, and felt his sex hard as stone. Behind him, Hannibal was wearing a new condom and lubricating his hands.

Will expected him to want him from behind, in the classic way, instead Hannibal lay down and pulled him into his lap. Will was half excited and half humiliated by how Hannibal managed to manoeuvre him as if he were weightless.

He looked at him, beneath him, and found him of a wild beauty, his hair scattered on the pillow, his eyes lit with molten gold, bright and thirsty. He stroked his chest as his hand slipped between his buttocks, preparing him as before.

Now he knew what to expect, and felt less discomfort, indeed began to move back and forth around his fingers. This tore a satisfied grin at Hannibal, who withdrew his hand and grabbed him by the hips. Will understood and directed his back, his heart pounding in his chest.

Hannibal led him to welcome him slowly, and as he descended, Will realized that the penetration would be even deeper. He stood motionless for a long moment, sitting on his thighs, overwhelmed by the feeling of completeness he felt. It was almost invasive.

He snooped with his hands to the sides of his hips and tried to rise and fall. The rubbing was even more divine than he imagined.

He let go of a trembling groan, and tried again. Hannibal's hands snapped to hold his hips and his fingers sank into the flesh.

Will had the instinct to close his eyes and throw his head back, but he dominated, because he wanted to look at him. With lips hatched, his eyes clouded with pleasure, Hannibal looked like a kind of mythological creature lost in a spell.

Will allowed himself to moan, excited at the far-fetched, as he acquired a more regular and rapid pace. He leaned slightly back, and Hannibal's sex slipped to another position, impacting against the prostate.

It was as if someone had broken their chains: Will began to ride him frantically, alternating the rise and fall to swing back and forth, instinctively contracting the internal muscles.

" Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me..." , He murmured meaningless.

For his part, Hannibal had so much hip blows that if he didn't hold him still, Will was certain he would fall. Pleasure seemed to rise like a flood, increasingly intolerable, increasingly threatening:

" Don't stop, fuck me, bastard, fuck me... Fuck me, fuck me! " He kept litaning, out of control.

Nevertheless, it was Hannibal who came first:

" Oh, Mano... Meile... " He sighed, in the midst of a stifled growl, pushing deeply into him. He let himself fall back, shaken by broken breaths, his eyes turned upside down.

Will needed no other green light: he took a merciless rhythm for himself, coming after a few seconds, squirting the seed on Hannibal's belly and chest. His mind went black out for a second:

" Fuck... Fuck. " He spat, bending over, and trying to catch his breath. His heart seemed to want to jump out of his ribcage, and he still saw slightly blurred.

With regret, he separated himself from contact with Hannibal and lay down next to him, exhausted.

He seemed even more won, and stroked his face with an uncertain hand, only to lure him into a surprisingly sweet kiss, compared to everything else:

"  _Kas išmokė jus mylėti_ ? " He murmured, in an almost incredulous tone, when he left him.

" What? " Will asked, still in a frenzy.

Hannibal brought back the usual grin:

" Who taught you to love? " He clarified.

Will smiled in turn:

" You, I suppose." Retorted.

The other tilted his head, with a half-laugh:

" Don't appeal to my ego, it's already fed enough. I guess he's a natural talent. Or maybe it's your gift." He watched, contemplating him.

Will just frothed:

" It's not a gift." He pressed, but Hannibal shook his head:

" It is. It allowed you to get close to me. It's not for everyone. " He declared.

To this, Will did not know how to replicate. He stayed a little with his head on the pillow, and in the meantime Hannibal lent him a T-shirt, before speaking again:

" Do you think Dolarhyde and Brown will give us trouble?" Asked.

Hannibal snorted:

" Not if they have a minimum of brains. We could always scare him a little more. " He imagined. Will glanced at him:

" Hannibal. " He redacted it. He gave him a falsely innocent look:

" What is it?"

" You really are a bully, you know?"

He shrugged:

" Only to other bullies. " Assured.

Will let it go. He sighed, satisfied, feeling his heavy eyelids. Hannibal looked at him:

"Are you all right?" He asked.

Will nodded:

" I'm where I want to be." He replied, simply. He paused, then added:

" Play something for me on the piano tomorrow." Proposed.

"What you want." It was the answer, in a soft whisper.

Just before he fell asleep, Will felt a hand in his hair.

He couldn't help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Google Translator didn't lie (apologies), these are the lithuanian lines:
> 
> Tu tobula, mano meile/ You're perfect, my love  
>  Mylimasis/ beloved
> 
> Gražus berniukas/ gorgeous boy
> 
> Mano meile/ My love  
> Kas išmokė jus mylėti?/ Who taught you to love?
> 
> Some notes about songs lyrics:  
> The title of the fic itself is taken from " Foregone" by Darkher, quoted also in the last chapter.  
> " Iron Moon" the club name, comes from a song by Chelsea Wolfe.  
> The last lithuanian line:" Who taught you how to love?" comes from a song by King Dude.  
> I've listened them during writing.  
> Thanks to KutzieeeDearie for the idea, and to all readers.  
> Lots of love
> 
> BlueSkiedandClear


End file.
